Of all the issues raised against the former and now detained president, it is the bank records of his family that irks and cause him to turn berserk. He portrayed himself to be poor and without riches despite his being a lawyer and a mayor for decades. He ruled with an iron fist wielding power with guns and goons who enforced his bloody war on drugs in his city.
Those tagged as users and pushers were reportedly warned to stop their lifestyle of being in the drug trade. Those who do not follow the stern admonition are reportedly advised to leave the city, else, they would be shoot and thrown elsewhere. That was his way of cleaning his city from the evils of illegal drugs.
Over the years of his reign as mayor, he was able to build an image of a purported drug-free city where peace and public safety were the seal of his governance. People lauded and supported his bloody anti-illegal drugs program. It was a program that puts every suspected drug-user and drug pusher as unworthy to live.
It is reportedly difficult for suspects to evade the ruthless means as the informers are reportedly just among the people in the community and are not identified as agents of the law. Once targets are identified, a different group would carry-out the elimination of the suspects. The perpetrators could not be caught as the police are part of the entire system. The culprits appear beyond the arms of the law as the police and law enforcers were often looking the other way as the executioners perform their mission.
It was only when the justice department under then justice secretary Leila De Lima conducted an investigation into the operations of a reported Davao Death Squad that untold information regarding the bloody drug war in the city caused alarm and concern to many people across the country. It also encouraged people who were part of the bloody drug was to come out and tell their stories about the ways surrounding the operations.
The investigation was ignited by the growing deaths not just of suspected drug users and pushers. People who openly criticize and oppose the bloody drug was were made targets for elimination according to reports from concerned observers in the communities. Even media people and journalists were subjected to threats for their life merely due to their opposition or non-conformance with the bloody drug war. Those who could not bear the threats preferred silence. The fearless media reporters and commentators were unfortunately sent to kingdom come.
In the period when the then mayor became president, the bloody drug war of his city were replicated and made nationwide. It was after the expiration of his term as president and the presidential immunity from suit that issues over his unexplained bank accounts as well as his children that were brought to the limelight. This time, the goons could no longer brag on the president whose unexplained riches, power and influence are no longer a thing they could bank on.
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Pacman’s rightful place
With a flurry of camera strobes and berserk punches, Manny Pacquiao—gray temples, muscles no longer what they once were—has stunned the boxing world with a comeback-for-the-ages. Sparing his creaky frame, the graciousness of wearing gloves again may not be kind to it, but it is the exact remedy that the sport so badly requires to cleanse itself of taint and doldrums. Leave him to box, and not fool around in politics, sing in concerts, or parade on the basketball court—boxers’ canvas is his altar, and there he is fitted to stay.
Something poignant in a man’s going back to where he started as a hero. This is the squared circle where a small-town nobody was battered into a world icon. But time, that merciless referee, keeps on ticking. A return at mid-forties is not only a gamble—it’s a disregard for all that biology dictates. And yet, here he is, taking blows instead of voting legislation into being, doing what he does best as the sport wracks itself for sincerity. It’s a world in which it seems like most fights are tainted by lucrative choices, hype, pomp, and mysterious match-fixing plots that Pacquiao’s comeback could be boxing’s final raw punch.
The sport requires him more now, not so much his name, but his heart. Those were the days of true rivalries and clean fights; now, too many fighters are sidestepping legitimate opponents or padding records like a politician padding his resume. Pacquiao, with all his shortcomings, never took the easy route. He climbed through divisions like a madman, leaving his blood in every fight, not only his gloves. His comeback will not cure all that ails boxing, but it is a pleasant reminder of what true grit is. And grit, as opposed to talent, does not get worse with age—it gets better.
We had all gritted our teeth through him dabbling in politics, music, and basketball—all forays more humiliating than the previous one. Politics left him infuriatingly over his head. In music, out of tune. On the canvas, bless his heart, he was almost like a mascot who would not remain on the bench. None of those coliseums unraveled his magic. They only suppressed the legend. But with boxing, all of his jabs, even at his ripe age, still resound like poetry in motion. Filipinos do not just respect him there—they believe in him. That faith shatters when he is at the podium of the Senate or gripping the microphone.
And it’s not just us who feel this way. Globally, Pacquiao is respected not for his speeches or soundtracks, but for being that rare fighter who unified belts without unifying bullshit. He fought giants with no excuses. He absorbed losses like a man, never blaming judges or injuries. That humility, that warrior spirit—that’s what elevated him from athlete to legend. His return, if questionable in terms of his medical fitness, reintroduces at least a touch of that innocence to a sport that’s become reliant on flash but lost some of its flair.
They’re right to be concerned about his health. He’s not 25 anymore. His punches have more bite now, and the comeback gets harder. But something must also be said about a man who knows who he is and what turns him on. Some languish at their best. Pacquiao, interestingly, flourishes in combat. Let us not pretend that this has to do with titles or finances. This is about dignity. The boxer is reclaiming his soul from a string of misadventures and providing fans—namely those that were let down by the recent circus acts of pugilism—a reason to return once more.
Naturally, his return won’t rewrite the sport’s problematic scripts overnight. But it will refocus attention away from celebrity matches and YouTuber fight clubs and onto actual matches. It will set the conversation back onto footwork and endurance, not odds and trending politicking. More significant is that it might remind young brawlers that greatness is not everything about going viral. It’s about fighting twelve rounds when your legs are as weak as noodles and your lungs are burning. Pacquiao’s is not a tale of stardom. It’s about staying true to one’s calling at all costs.
Let him fight. Not for always—just long enough for the fire to go out. He doesn’t have to prove anything anymore. But if getting back in the ring brings order to the sport, reassurance to his people, and closure to his own legend, then ring the bell. Just please, no more records, no more Senate hearings, and for goodness’ sake, no more half-court baskets. Leave the other rings in the past—this was the only one that ever fit.